


I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything (but I know I miss you)

by brittandsanforever



Series: Brittana: the scenes that could’ve been [7]
Category: Brittana - Fandom, Glee
Genre: F/F, Tina finds out about Brittana, Trouty Mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29590398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittandsanforever/pseuds/brittandsanforever
Summary: They were supposed to finally be together, but they're not, and every time Brittany looks her way it's like a dagger to the chest. Takes place during Original Song (2x16).
Relationships: Santana Lopez & Tina Cohen-Chang, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Series: Brittana: the scenes that could’ve been [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936897
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything (but I know I miss you)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is lyrics from Taylor Swift's betty.

Santana was on the warpath again, and it was all _Brittany’s_ fault. She was just so _sad_ and _angry,_ and tried numbing her broken heart any way she knew how, any way that provided even the smallest bit of relief from the pain that was all but consuming her. And this time, she decided to take it out on _Sam._ Her _stupid_ fishy-lipped boyfriend Sam Evans, with his perfect surfer boy hair and giant mouth that always tasted like strawberry ChapStick (that part she actually didn’t mind, as it allowed her to imagine she was kissing Brittany instead). 

But Sam _wasn’t_ Brittany, and every minute spent with him was just a painful reminder that she couldn’t be with the one person she wanted more than _anything,_ and she resented him for it. But Sam was still _someone,_ and as she often reminded herself, that was better than having no one at all. She’d also been feeling especially paranoid lately, with the fact that multiple people knew _something_ was going on with her and Brittany looming over her. So when Mr. Schue gave in to the Glee club performing original songs for Regionals, Santana knew _exactly_ what hers was going to be about, and she knew _exactly_ who she wanted to help her with it.

“Hey, Tina. So I decided you’re coming over after school to help me with my song for Regionals,” Santana said unwaveringly as she cornered Tina by her locker after their fourth period class. Santana stood over her, arms crossed, until she looked slightly intimidated.

“Wait, _me_? When have we ever hung out outside of school? And you just called me _Tina,”_ she stated as her eyes widened, thinking that maybe she woke up in some sort of alternate universe where her and Santana Lopez were _friends_.

“Yeah, well, _Girl Chang_ has a nice ring to it but it’s starting to get old. But you know whose nickname _never_ gets old? Sam’s. And _that’s_ what I wanna write a song about.”

“And why do you want _my_ help?” Tina asked, still confused by the sudden interest the Latina had taken in her.

“Because….you play the piano, right?” Santana asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes, knowing that Tina would say yes and then wouldn’t be able to turn Santana down, because she’s _Tina._ After Tina agreed, Santana texted her address and told her to meet her after school. 

At around 4:30, Tina showed up at her door, wearing sweats and sandals with fuzzy socks, and Santana thought it was so strange to see her outside of school. She showed her around, and even showed Tina her bedroom upstairs, although they’d be spending most of their time downstairs in the living room. 

“When you said you lived in Lima Heights, I was _not_ expecting a place like this. Your house is _so nice_ , Santana. I almost feel underdressed,” Tina said as she hesitantly sat down in front of the grand piano in the Lopez living room. 

“Well don’t worry, it’s not like there’s anyone here to impress. My parents won’t be home until late tonight. And I never said I lived in Lima Heights, I said I lived in Lima Heights _Adjacent._ This neighborhood _technically_ isn’t in Lima Heights, but right outside of it. It’s still _Sketchville_ , though....all of the creeps hang out around here. I’m even afraid to leave the house alone sometimes. We also have a state-of-the-art security system that probably cost more than this house and both my parents’ cars,” Santana revealed, pointing to the large surveillance screen on the wall in the hallway.

“Why live on this side of town then? It _is_ kind of sketchy….when I was getting out of my car, there were these creepy men dressed in black staring at me from across the street.”

“Oh yeah, those guys are drug dealers….I just try to avoid eye contact. But my dad needed to live near the hospital because he’s on-call a lot, so….nice big house, but you have to worry about deranged homeless men breaking your windows and gunshots that sound just a little too close for comfort when you’re trying to sleep at night, and getting mugged while walking to the mailbox,” Santana explained, and Tina jumped as she thought she heard a rattling noise coming from upstairs just as Santana finished talking.

“Hey, are you sure you locked the front door when I came in?” Tina asked nervously, craning her neck around to look towards the staircase and then back to the front door.

“Oh _relax,_ Jumpy. We’re _fine,_ security system, remember? Now let’s get started with the song. I already have a few ideas. First—the title. I’m calling it _Trouty Mouth,_ ” Santana stated, pulling out a notebook that she’d jotted down some lyrics on earlier. 

Santana had spent _all_ of fifth and sixth period trying to think of nice words to describe Sam, but all she could come up with were insults. She decided to just go with it, because she told Brittany she was writing a song about Sam, and so she damn well was going to write a song about him and sing it during Glee club in front of her. It was her way of giving Brittany a taste of her own medicine, showing her how it felt to see her happy with someone else (although Santana wasn’t _actually_ happy….but she was good at pretending).

“Wow…. _shocker,”_ Tina commented, an unamused look on her face. “But don’t you think that's kind of insulting? And strange to sing about at a show choir competition?”

“No, I think Sam's lucky as hell to have _me_ writing about him. And it’s not _strange,_ it’s a _love song._ Aren’t you supposed to be warming up, or whatever?” Santana asked in an annoyed tone.

“I’ve been playing piano since I was four, Santana, I don’t really think I need to warm up,” Tina replied with an eye roll as she started to tinker with the piano. “Do you want to start with the first verse and we can work from there?”

An hour or so later, the girls took a short break and Santana got them Diet Cokes and a bag of Ruffles from the kitchen. Tina was staring at her as they took sips from their sodas and munched on the chips, eyes narrowed like she was studying the Latina, and Santana was about to tell her to knock it off when she opened her mouth to speak. 

“Okay, please don’t bite my head off, but can I ask _why_ you’re doing this? Do you even _like_ Sam?” Tina asked tentatively, preparing for Santana to snap at her.

“ _Of course_ I like Sam, he’s my _boyfriend,”_ Santana replied defensively.

“Okay, but like….this is a _terrible_ love song, and it’s kind of mean. I admit that it’s pretty catchy, and the whole piano, bluesy, 1940’s vibe is actually pretty awesome, but if I wrote a song like this for Mike and performed it during Glee club, I’m pretty sure he’d dump me, and I wouldn’t blame him.”

“If I wanted your opinion on the song, Girl Chang, I would’ve asked. _I_ think Sam’s gonna love it, and it could be a real winner for Regionals….I mean _come on,_ do you really think any of those losers can come up with something better?” Santana asked, trying to read Tina's expression. “And besides….I _need_ this after the day I had today. Coach Sylvester is seriously losing her mind. Did you hear what she did to me and Britt this morning? I had to take _two_ showers to scrub all the dirt off, and I _still_ smell like a damn compost pile.”

Tina nodded, her eyes widening. “Oh I heard, I’m pretty sure the entire school did. The janitors were still cleaning out your lockers when Mike and I left after our Brainiacs meeting. And speaking of Brittany….did something happen between you two? Because I mean, you’re _always_ together, especially during Glee club, and today was the first time I’ve seen you guys speak in _weeks.”_

“Britt and I are fine, _Tina Cohen-Nosy,_ nothing happened,” Santana insisted with an eye roll, trying to maintain her composed demeanor, realizing that it was her own fault for bringing Brittany into the conversation. _Of course_ Tina would ask about her.

“Santana….”

“Okay, _okay_ , we’re not fine,” Santana admitted, knowing that they would probably be together for at least a few more hours and Tina was already seeing right through her lies. “We’re....fighting. And yeah, this morning was the first time we talked in so long and I just....miss her.”

“Well, Mike told me that Britt’s been _super_ sad lately and totally not herself, so I’m guessing she misses you, too. Maybe you two should—”

 _“Hold up,_ you know what?” Santana interrupted, her tone suddenly turning icy. “I didn’t invite you here to talk about Brittany, and I _definitely_ didn’t invite you here to be my fucking therapist. So if you’re not gonna help me with the song, then just go,” she spat, realizing that Tina’s motives for agreeing to come over probably had to do with some elaborate plan she'd orchestrated with Mike to help fix her and Brittany’s obviously crumbling friendship.

“No, I agreed to help you, so I’m not leaving until we have a finished song for tomorrow,” Tina asserted, confidently meeting Santana’s gaze, and the Latina wasn’t going to argue with that.

Neither girl mentioned Brittany again for the rest of the night and they finished up with the song by 8:30, and Tina stood up from the piano to collect her things. There was something dangling off the right edge of the piano as Tina went to close the lid, and she stopped to catch it before it fell to the floor. 

“Hey….what’s this?” Tina asked inquisitively, holding up to the light a colorful bracelet with small square beads that read _BP + SL 4 EVER_ in black lettering. Santana recognized the bracelet immediately and wondered what it was doing inside her piano. 

“No- _nothing!_ It’s nothing. Just a stupid bracelet. Britt must’ve left it here,” Santana stammered, leaning forward to swipe the bracelet out of Tina’s grasp, shoving it into the back pocket of her jeans. She knew it was too late, that Tina had already seen too much. It was evident from the look on Tina’s face that she was connecting the dots—this wasn’t a friendship breakup, but more of a _breakup_ breakup. Santana just hoped that Tina knew how to keep her mouth shut. 

Santana walked Tina to her car after reluctantly thanking her for helping with the song, and told her she actually looked forward to performing it together at school tomorrow. Tina waved as she pulled out of the driveway, and Santana hurried back inside to escape the cold (and any creeps loitering around her neighborhood). 

She flopped down on her bed as soon as she got to her room and pulled out the old bracelet from her back pocket, examining it closely, tracing over the engraved beads with her fingers, and was suddenly hit with a whirlwind of emotions. All Santana could think about was Brittany, and how Brittany approached her by their lockers earlier, all crestfallen and doe-eyed, long blonde hair down with the front pieces pulled back in the way that Santana adored on her. _Beautiful._ Brittany’s voice had been calm but slightly hoarse, almost as if she’d been crying. “ _You’re still dating Sam? But you told me you were in love with me.”_

It took _everything_ Santana had to keep it together and maintain her cold, _I don’t care_ façade with Brittany looking at her like that. She could barely make eye contact with Brittany without feeling an intense _crushing_ pain in her chest, and she couldn’t even remember her damn locker combination or what class she had next with those sapphire eyes burning into her.

Santana wanted to seem cool, calm, and collected, like she was doing fine without Brittany, but all she could think was _ImissyouImissyouImissyou_ and it took everything in her not to blurt out those words. She instead had to pretend like she _hadn’t_ made the most devastatingly _pathetic_ love confession in the history of _ever_ just under two weeks ago. Like Brittany _wasn’t_ the air that Santana needed to breathe. 

But she _had_ made the confession, and clearly she _did_ needBrittany. And it was all out there, and despite what she told Puck, she _couldn’t_ bury it, not any of it. Which is why it was only slightly ironic seconds later when she was _actually_ buried in dirt by Sue Sylvester. Brittany had gotten a locker full of dirt to the face too, after she bravely stuck up for them against their bitter ex-cheer coach. 

“I see you’re taking the whole _burying it_ thing literally. Might work better if you _don’t_ talk to her,” Puck had teased as he walked up to Santana, who was still standing by her locker in shock, trying to get dirt out of her mouth. 

“Shut it, Puckerman, or I’ll bury you, too,” she’d snapped back, maybe a little too angrily, because he was really just trying to check on her. She gave Puck an _I’m okay, don’t worry about me_ look before slamming her locker door shut and hurrying to the bathroom where she could clean herself up. She almost ran straight into Brittany who was at the sink, calmly splashing water on her face to remove some of the dirt smudges.

“You okay, San?” Brittany asked, turning to face Santana as she dried her face and neck with a few paper towels. She somehow managed to get most of the dirt out of her hair already, too. 

“It’s just dirt, Britt. It’ll come off. I’ll be fine,” Santana replied, wiping at some dirt underneath her eyes as she looked straight into the mirror, refusing to make eye contact with Brittany. She knew what Brittany was _really_ asking her, it was what she tried to ask before Sue’s dirt bomb went off.

“That’s not what I meant,” Brittany said, taking a few steps towards Santana hesitantly, clutching the paper towels in her hand. 

“I know, and that’s why I answered the way I did. I’ll get over it, I’ll be fine. _Eventually,_ I’ll—”

“Wait, San, hold still, you’ve got some in your eyelashes,” Brittany noted, stepping even closer so that she could reach out and gently brush at Santana’s lashes with the paper towel, careful not to rub off her mascara, catching the dirt that fell into her hand. Santana was well aware of their intoxicatingly close proximity, they were so close she could smell Brittany’s skin and her bubblegum Lip Smackers. She could even feel the heat radiating from the blonde’s body with how close they were. 

Santana’s eyes were wide and dark and roaming Brittany’s face, features she missed admiring up close: the prominent curve of her upper lip, the faint beauty mark below her right eye, soft golden hair that always smelled like pink flowers and citrus shampoo. Brittany’s eyebrows were pressed together in concentration as she wiped over and over at Santana’s lashes, hands shaking slightly, letting the Latina know that this overwhelming sudden closeness after _weeks_ of being apart was getting to her, too. 

And then some dirt fell from Santana’s lashes onto her mouth, Brittany’s shaky hands too slow to catch it. Brittany’s eyes darted to full, parted lips and she boldly brought her thumb up to Santana’s bottom lip and held it there for a moment too long before gently but firmly brushing the dirt away. It took _everything_ Santana had not to lean forward and crash their lips together, but she knew it wasn’t going to fix anything. It would only further blur the lines of what they were right now, and Brittany had made it clear that she wasn’t leaving Artie. 

“I….uh, thanks,” Santana stuttered, her lips feeling like they were on _fire_ from the blonde’s touch. Brittany’s eyes were wide and searching her own and Santana felt like she was being sucked into those deep swirling blues, but then Brittany suddenly shut her eyes and her brow furrowed, like she was distraught. 

When her eyes fluttered open, they were filled with so much fervor as she opened her mouth to speak. “You know….I don’t think I can stay away from you, Santana. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible. You’re like….a magnetic field and I just can’t help it, especially when you look at me like that.”

“Look at you like what?”

“Like you want to tell me you love me but it hurts too much. Like the words are on the tip of your tongue but you can’t get them out because of what happened the last time. I _know_ you meant it when you said it, when you told me how you felt in the hallway. So _why_ are you still dating Sam?” Brittany questioned, her voice thick with emotion.

“You have some nerve asking me that, you know. Why are _you_ still dating _Artie?_ Oh, wait, that’s right—because you _love_ him! You _fucking_ love him! So you don’t get to ask me about Sam, and you don’t get to act like _I’m_ the one doing something wrong here. You don’t want me, you made that pretty damn clear. But _Sam_ does. And it feels good to be wanted, to be _chosen,”_ Santana snapped, trying to hold back the tears that were desperately trying to make their way out. 

This was way too hard. She couldn’t even be _around_ Brittany anymore without feeling like she’s suffocating, or about to have a breakdown. But she _refused_ to cry in front of Brittany, to let her know how them being apart was _destroying_ her inside, to let her know that all she wanted to do was pull Brittany close and kiss her like she’s the air Santana’s been deprived of for way too long. 

“But you’ll never feel the same way he does, Santana….and we both know why,” Brittany stated truthfully, and of course Santana knew exactly what she meant, what she was referring to. _Because I don’t like boys, is what she wants me to say, to admit,_ Santana thought. But no matter how badly she wanted Brittany, and to end this stupid, awkward dance they’ve been doing around each other for the past few weeks, she still wasn’t ready to admit that out loud, even to herself. 

Before Santana could even think of a response, the bathroom door flew open and a group of sophomore Cheerios walked in, donning their cherry red uniforms and gossiping loudly about something, giving the two ex-Cheerios dirty looks as they waited for them to leave. Well, her conversation with Brittany was definitely over now. 

“I gotta go, Britt,” Santana said, quickly scooping up her backpack from the counter and brushing the last bit of dirt off the front of her shirt before turning around and leaving the bathroom without a second glance back at Brittany, who was still standing by the sink. She made sure to shove one of the Cheerios _hard_ with her shoulder and gave them one of her signature smirks on the way out, asserting that she was still at the top of the McKinley food chain despite no longer being a Cheerio. 

She then remembers crying in the shower hours later after school, Brittany’s voice echoing around her, and she swore she could still _feel_ Brittany’s touch ghosting over her lips and the _fire_ that it ignited inside of her, and it made her realize just how much she _ached_ to kiss her, to touch her, to just _be_ with her, even as friends. As she tried to scrub all of the dirt off herself, watching as it swirled down the drain, she realized that she'd been trying to do the same thing with Brittany, but it wasn’t working. 

It also made Santana so _angry_ that Brittany had the audacity to judge her for being with Sam, when Brittany was the _reason_ she was dating him in the first place. Brittany had _no right_ to judge her, to criticize her dating choices, to make her somehow feel _guilty_ for being with Sam, when _she_ was still with Artie. And it’s what further fed the flames inside Santana to come up with a _killer_ song about Sam just to rub it in their faces.

Santana rolled over onto her back as she laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, realizing how _bitter_ and _pathetic_ she’d become. She needed to get back to being _Santana Lopez,_ and work on her plan to slowly but surely come out of the _flannel closet,_ and that wasn’t going to happen if she was crying over Brittany every night alone in her room. She was supposed to be focusing on _herself,_ so she dried her eyes with a pillow and pushed herself up off her bed to pick out an outfit for tomorrow, thinking about how _Trouty Mouth_ was her first step to feeling more like herself again.

Her performance of _Trouty Mouth_ the next morning hadn’t gone over well with most of the Glee club. Mr. Schue hated it (although he didn’t use such harsh words), Sam hated it _(“Okay, can we stop? Stop with the mouth jokes!”)_ , and Quinn remarked that it was even _worse_ than Rachel’s song about her stupid headband. And it didn’t have _quite_ the desired effect on Brittany that Santana was hoping for, as she looked less than impressed with the song but also like she wasn’t surprised that the nicest words Santana could come up with to describe Sam were _guppy face, grouper mouth,_ and _salamander lips._

Tina had killed it at the piano though, and was the only person besides Puck to clap for her after the performance was interrupted by an angry and annoyed Sam, and it wasn’t lost on Santana that Tina was still supportive of her even after finding out about what was really going on between her and Brittany. All it took was one look from Tina across the room that told Santana she wasn’t going to say anything, and it filled her with a bit of relief.

By the time Regionals finally rolled around, just a week after Santana’s _Trouty Mouth_ performance, New Directions had _two_ original songs prepared and choreographed, and while Santana thought Rachel’s _Get It Right_ was super lame and so obviously about Finn, she actually kind of liked _Loser Like Me_ , although she’d _never_ admit it to anyone. 

And then at Regionals, everything _hurt._ She was bored to death by Rachel’s solo and her pining glances at Finn backstage, thinking about how she deserved more time in the spotlight after killing her solo at Sectionals. Santana stood backstage as Rachel’s voice echoed throughout the packed auditorium, peering into the huge crowd, which seemed to be even larger than the one at Sectionals. It made sense, because this was definitely much higher stakes—if they won this, they were headed to _Nationals_ —something that’s still difficult for Santana to wrap her mind around. Were they really good enough for this, was _she_ really good enough for this?

Santana also couldn’t help but glance over at Brittany every few minutes, who was now sitting in Artie’s lap as he spun her around in circles in his wheelchair. Brittany’s laugh cut through her like a knife, and her smile made her chest _ache,_ and all she could think about was _how_ Brittany could possibly be so _happy_ without Santana, and how Brittany was the one spinning, but _she_ was the one about to hurl. 

When it was finally time for the rest of the New Directions to join Rachel on stage, Brittany looked at her longingly from across the room, and her smile turned into a sad pout that yanked at something deep inside the Latina’s chest. They haven’t talked _at all_ since their interrupted conversation in the girl’s bathroom last week, and Santana’s starting to think the blonde’s comment about not being able to stay away was bullshit because _how_ is it not _killing_ her that they haven’t spoken in a _week?_

Being onstage next to Brittany when things were like this was _paralyzing,_ and she felt jolts of pain in her still-injured foot as she twirled around (curse her brilliant idea of kicking a fucking _brick wall,_ and thank the Lord that Puck had been there to stop her from doing even _more_ damage), but Santana pushed through the pain and the heartache because this was her _team,_ her _people,_ and she refused to be the one thing that held them back from Nationals. The song was painful too, especially with her “ _I don’t care,”_ line, because the truth is, she _wishes_ that were true. 

She wishes more than anything that she didn’t care so much about what other people think, that she could just brush it off and hold Brittany’s hand and kiss her proudly in the hallway like all the other couples did without a second thought. She wishes she didn’t care if other people knew her secret, who she was, who she’s always been inside.

 _Why_ did she care so much? She practically _owned_ the damn school—she was _the_ untouchable Santana Lopez—but was _terrified_ of everyone knowing this _one_ secret of hers. She was okay with being labeled the school’s biggest _slut_ and _man eater_ when it wasn’t even true _,_ so why was being labeled _gay_ (when she really was) her worst nightmare?

She knows that it isn’t just about the kids at school, it’s much deeper than that—much more personal. It’s about her mom and her dad and her _abuela,_ and all of her cousins and aunts and uncles who’re _strictly religious_ and would rather find out that Santana had _cancer_ over her being _gay._ It’s about the talks and the looks that’ll follow her all around Lima, not just McKinley (another reason to leave this _stupid_ cow town the second she graduates). It’s about feeling like she’s _inferior_ to all these idiots just because she’s different, like there’s something _wrong_ with her for loving someone, for loving Brittany.

And oh, God, she can’t stop loving Brittany, no matter how hard she tries. And she’s _tried_ so hard to forget about her, to erase her, to bury her feelings like she told Puck and pretend like Brittany _wasn’t_ the sun that Santana’s entire world has revolved around for half of her life. 

But Brittany’s _voice_ follows her everywhere she goes, and she _sees_ Brittany in everyone and in everything, and she _shivers_ just thinking about feeling Brittany’s touch, and being in her arms. Everything is just _BrittanyBrittanyBrittany_ all the time and it’s overwhelming and makes her nauseous, and she’s not sure it’ll ever go away. 

It doesn’t help that Mr. Schue’s _stupid_ and _lame_ choreography places _Wheels_ of all people right between them, and she catches Brittany glancing at her over his head, but seconds later her twinkling blue eyes are on _him_ again, like she feels guilty for even looking Santana’s way. It also doesn’t help that her mom _promised_ to make it from work in time for their performance, but they were getting to the end of their last number and the older Latina was nowhere to be seen in the crowd. It’s starting to seem like the only person who truly cares about her in this miserable stinking world is _Noah Puckerman,_ and that is one sad fact. 

The performance is over in the blink of an eye and Santana doesn’t feel numb like she was expecting when it’s announced that they won. Instead she feels _excitement_ and _joy_ and _pride,_ and Rachel Berry _hugs_ her and squeals in her ear but she doesn’t even get annoyed because they’re going to _Nationals_ in _New York City_ in just two short months, right as they’ll be finishing their junior year.

Santana’s eyes drifted over to Brittany from across the room, watching her hands squeeze Artie’s shoulders as he held up their Regionals trophy triumphantly. She was breathing hard and smiling, and loosened her grip on Artie as soon as she locked eyes with Santana, _staring_ at her so intensely that Santana felt like her entire body was on fire. 

Santana forced herself to look away before she got pulled back in, because if _she’s_ a magnetic field, like the blonde had told her, then Brittany’s a goddamn _black hole._

She drove home alone in silence, her adrenaline still pumping from the high of being on stage, and the excitement of being handed that gigantic trophy. When Santana saw her mom’s car in the driveway as she pulled up to the house, she dreaded going inside because she knew the older woman was just going to give her _another_ excuse as to why she couldn’t make it this time. 

She’d tried to sneak past the kitchen to go straight upstairs, but her mom was waiting for her, still dressed in her work clothes. “Santana…. _lo siento mucho, mija._ I know you’re upset with me. I wanted to be there _so_ badly but I got stuck in a late meeting. Tell me, did you place?” 

“We won the whole thing. First place. We’re going to Nationals in New York in May. I might even get another solo part, if I’m lucky," Santana replied stoically, thinking that her mom really didn't deserve the details if she was going to keep bailing on her like this. Maribel's eyes immediately lit up, and she stepped closer towards the younger Latina, who hesitantly crossed her arms.

“I am _so_ proud of you, my _Santanacita._ I would do _anything_ to see you perform in New York, but with work, I just started my new position and….” she trailed off, looking at her daughter with guilty, tired eyes, knowing that Santana was tired of hearing her constant excuses.

“You don’t have to say anything else. It’s okay, Mamá, _really._ If there’s one thing I’ve learned over these past few months, it’s that people are going to disappoint you no matter what, and the only person you can really count on is yourself.”

“Mija, _please….”_ Maribel begged, reaching for Santana's hand as the younger Latina turned around to head upstairs.

“I gotta go, Mamá. Homework,” Santana replied, trying to hide the pain in her voice. 

She bounded up the stairs and locked the door as soon as she entered her room, flopping down on the bed with a long huff. She can’t believe that _this_ was how her night was going when Glee club had just won their first Regionals competition: sad, alone, and wishing she could go back to the night they won Sectionals just four months ago.

That night is forever engraved into her mind: the high they shared after winning Sectionals (well _tying_ for first with the Warblers, but they still technically _won)_ and Brittany asking Santana to come home with her, kicking off their shoes and letting their dresses fall to the floor as they stumbled into the shower together, lying next to Brittany afterwards and singing to her, _just her,_ as Brittany looked up at her with so much love.

Santana desperately wished she could turn back time to that night, because everything was different now and _nothing_ would ever be the same after her confession by the lockers. And Brittany belonged to _someone else,_ which still made her blood boil with a mix of rage and sadness every time she was reminded of it. But _prom_ was coming up, and despite her rather questionable and murky motivations, Santana would do _anything_ to win Prom Queen and prove to Brittany that they belonged together. All she had to do was figure out _how._


End file.
